CHAPTER THREE
Without Chloe
Tracy boarded a taxi from the internet city Metro station. She thought about what her life might have been like, had she stayed in LA; but she didn’t have to feel sorry for coming abroad instead of celebrating a traditional Christmas. She was more than happy to be away for a couple of days in the end of December. The American winter was much too cold and excessively chilly for her and her daughter. So, a winter getaway is something they were accustomed to and they preferred spending Christmas in Dubailand rather than the United States.
Oh! if only Chloe would not have been abducted……
Chloe should not have been abducted…! An sense of dreaded longing for her daughter descended on me. She took a tissue from her purse and wiped the tears from her face, slid her sleeve across her right cheek and then rested her hand again.
Suddenly she lowered her eyes, trying to control the fresh burst of tears and not wanting to provoke questions from the taxi driver. She wondered what might have prompted the abduction of her daughter. She took Chloe’s photo out of her pocket, checked it. Chloe looked beautiful with her eyes looking at you every direction u put the picture.
There was no need to see it anymore, as she continued feeling useless as a mother because of not being able to protect her daughter. She kept it at hand to show it to anyone in case they had came across a girl in the photo. The taxi pulled up into the other lane. Tracy was heading to The Palm Islands, some distance from where she lived. To certain abandoned building which she had heard stories about.
The disastrous disappearance of her daughter flitted through Tracy’s mind. As the taxi wove through the congested service lanes of Media City, she got more determined to find her.
She didn’t own a car and she never wanted to use Kris’s car in this; so she resorted to public transport because Andre had not shown up as they had agreed. She knew she would not get lost, but she didn’t want to visit strange places alone, especially the spooky abandoned building at the Palm.
The taxi driver let his eyes wander and noticed that his passenger looked sad, her hands clenched together between her legs.
“Mum, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You look so thoughtfully and tired.”
Tracy’s voice was slow, raspy and weak; she had a pure American accent. “My daughter is missing.”
“How did it happen?”
She handed him the photo of Chloe, dressed in her El Monte high school uniform. He looked at it and said nothing but looked stricken.
“She’s so cute.” The taxi driver said and concentrated back to his driving as Tracy stretched to get the photo from him. “I don’t really wanted to talk about it.” she said. “It’s been a week now.”
The cabby’s voice came on hoarse, “sorry to hear that.”
As Tracy listened to her heart beating, the cabby continued talking, “Do not worry, I’m sure they will find her. “Insha Allah,” said the cabby in a very Arabic accent. Tracy could not speak or understand what he said; she nodded, hoping this was the appropriate response.
She panicked; how will I stay without Chloe? Now she could hear her voice, especially their last conversation on the phone when she called to inform her that granny had arrived home. She recalled the way she moved whenever she came to pick her up from school, her cute manner when dealing with her friends back in LA, and how excited she was about this holiday. At the moment, Tracy wished she could rewind time so that nothing happened to Chloe. But it was too late.
